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tamingthemuseTitle: Respite
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Hinterlands
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Recoiling, Cassandra nudges her plate away. “You can eat that? Isn't it, well, pointy?”
The house has a certain charm to it which she can't deny, but it's oppressively small. Not that she's in any objective danger of striking her head on a lintel; she's not a particularly tall woman, and Steel, who's just of a height with her, moves comfortably in the space. But Cassandra is used to the soaring heights and vaulted roofs of the city, where even her tiny pastry-shop had a ceiling high enough to have accomodated three of her, standing on each other's shoulders like tumblers.
A young man with a cloth tied about him as an apron introduces himself as Jet's brother Jade, and finds himself the new target of Steel's most brilliant smile. The greetings are inane, but with Steel's slender hand at the small of his back and Steel's lips at his ear, Jade flushes like a boy and laughs a man's deep laugh. Then he disappears into the kitchen and brings out two heavy earthenware plates of food. Cassandra takes hers with a curt nod, but Steel brushes the other man's fingertips as he thanks him for the hospitality.
They are left alone to eat, which Cassandra appreciates as much as the food itself. She looks around in vain for a table and chairs, then follows Steel's lead when he seats himself on the floor. The rough wall is cool against her back.
Steel sees her poking at the unfamiliar strips of vegetable matter on her plate, and laughs. “You don't eat like this in the city, I guess.”
Cassandra answers him with a shrug. “Eggs we eat, but I don't know the other. Is it an import?”
That nearly makes Steel choke on his supper. “Import? No, anything but. You've seen it before, you just don't recognize it.”
“What is it, then?”
“Cactus, that's all. Probably yesterday's leftovers, it's not all that fresh.”
Recoiling, Cassandra nudges her plate away. “You can eat that? Isn't it, well, pointy?”
More snickering and mock-coughs from her dining companion. “You're ridiculous. You take off the spines. Haven't you ever cooked in your life, city girl?”
Shows what he knows. “Of course I have. But food, not pointy weeds. Why would you even think of eating cactus?”
“Get hungry enough and you will. Try it, you'll like it.”
It can't be worse than some of the horrors she's choked down at lunch with some of her foreign clients, so she takes a piece between thumb and forefinger and gives it an experimental bite. The cactus is crisp and fibrous, with a tart juice. Not unpleasant, she decides on reflection, even if it does take some chewing. She finds she likes it better than the eggs, which are over-spiced in what she suspects is an attempt to conceal their age.
Steel excuses himself before she finishes, and returns with an armful of bedding. The house is too small to have a spare room, but they're welcome to sleep on the floor for one night. He passes her a blanket, and spreads one out for himself.
Steel's apparently too shy to undress, although he does kick off his boots and untie the beaded belt from his waist. Cassandra has no such compunction, and gladly strips to her shirt before wrapping herself in the blanket. Then her kerchief has to be untied, braids unkinked and her little flask of oil found in her knapsack. She pours a puddle into her palm, rubs her hands together and runs her fingers through her hair until it's soft and slick. Twisting her hair up on her head and tying it off with a silk scarf is a familiar and comforting night-time ritual, something she's done every evening since she was old enough to remember.
By the time she's done, Steel's already settled in. He looks irritatingly comfortable on the hard floor, legs sprawling, head pillowed on his arm. His eyes are closed, long lashes trailing down towards high cheekbones.
Cassandra rolls over to him. “Steel?”
“Mm?” Inarticulate already. Cassandra wishes she could find sleep as quickly as he seems to, just reaching out and grasping the elusive animal.
“We really are in the middle of nowhere, aren't we?”
“What?” He doesn't even open his eyes.
“The wilds, the hinterlands. Where civilized people never set foot. Where they eat cactus and talk funny and marry their cousins. Somewhere I never thought I'd be. Somewhere I'm leaving as soon as I can find a way out. Somewhere, I don't know, strange and dangerous and nothing like I thought it was.”
“Cassandra?”
“What?”
“Shut up.”
She doesn't say anything more. Instead, she waits as the room grows dark and colors fade to grays, watching Steel as his breathing slows and steadies.
It's a long time before she finds her own rest.
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Hinterlands
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Recoiling, Cassandra nudges her plate away. “You can eat that? Isn't it, well, pointy?”
The house has a certain charm to it which she can't deny, but it's oppressively small. Not that she's in any objective danger of striking her head on a lintel; she's not a particularly tall woman, and Steel, who's just of a height with her, moves comfortably in the space. But Cassandra is used to the soaring heights and vaulted roofs of the city, where even her tiny pastry-shop had a ceiling high enough to have accomodated three of her, standing on each other's shoulders like tumblers.
A young man with a cloth tied about him as an apron introduces himself as Jet's brother Jade, and finds himself the new target of Steel's most brilliant smile. The greetings are inane, but with Steel's slender hand at the small of his back and Steel's lips at his ear, Jade flushes like a boy and laughs a man's deep laugh. Then he disappears into the kitchen and brings out two heavy earthenware plates of food. Cassandra takes hers with a curt nod, but Steel brushes the other man's fingertips as he thanks him for the hospitality.
They are left alone to eat, which Cassandra appreciates as much as the food itself. She looks around in vain for a table and chairs, then follows Steel's lead when he seats himself on the floor. The rough wall is cool against her back.
Steel sees her poking at the unfamiliar strips of vegetable matter on her plate, and laughs. “You don't eat like this in the city, I guess.”
Cassandra answers him with a shrug. “Eggs we eat, but I don't know the other. Is it an import?”
That nearly makes Steel choke on his supper. “Import? No, anything but. You've seen it before, you just don't recognize it.”
“What is it, then?”
“Cactus, that's all. Probably yesterday's leftovers, it's not all that fresh.”
Recoiling, Cassandra nudges her plate away. “You can eat that? Isn't it, well, pointy?”
More snickering and mock-coughs from her dining companion. “You're ridiculous. You take off the spines. Haven't you ever cooked in your life, city girl?”
Shows what he knows. “Of course I have. But food, not pointy weeds. Why would you even think of eating cactus?”
“Get hungry enough and you will. Try it, you'll like it.”
It can't be worse than some of the horrors she's choked down at lunch with some of her foreign clients, so she takes a piece between thumb and forefinger and gives it an experimental bite. The cactus is crisp and fibrous, with a tart juice. Not unpleasant, she decides on reflection, even if it does take some chewing. She finds she likes it better than the eggs, which are over-spiced in what she suspects is an attempt to conceal their age.
Steel excuses himself before she finishes, and returns with an armful of bedding. The house is too small to have a spare room, but they're welcome to sleep on the floor for one night. He passes her a blanket, and spreads one out for himself.
Steel's apparently too shy to undress, although he does kick off his boots and untie the beaded belt from his waist. Cassandra has no such compunction, and gladly strips to her shirt before wrapping herself in the blanket. Then her kerchief has to be untied, braids unkinked and her little flask of oil found in her knapsack. She pours a puddle into her palm, rubs her hands together and runs her fingers through her hair until it's soft and slick. Twisting her hair up on her head and tying it off with a silk scarf is a familiar and comforting night-time ritual, something she's done every evening since she was old enough to remember.
By the time she's done, Steel's already settled in. He looks irritatingly comfortable on the hard floor, legs sprawling, head pillowed on his arm. His eyes are closed, long lashes trailing down towards high cheekbones.
Cassandra rolls over to him. “Steel?”
“Mm?” Inarticulate already. Cassandra wishes she could find sleep as quickly as he seems to, just reaching out and grasping the elusive animal.
“We really are in the middle of nowhere, aren't we?”
“What?” He doesn't even open his eyes.
“The wilds, the hinterlands. Where civilized people never set foot. Where they eat cactus and talk funny and marry their cousins. Somewhere I never thought I'd be. Somewhere I'm leaving as soon as I can find a way out. Somewhere, I don't know, strange and dangerous and nothing like I thought it was.”
“Cassandra?”
“What?”
“Shut up.”
She doesn't say anything more. Instead, she waits as the room grows dark and colors fade to grays, watching Steel as his breathing slows and steadies.
It's a long time before she finds her own rest.
